A Darkness of Hearts
by Erial K
Summary: Arya Stark returns to Westeros. Lady Sansa plays the game in the Eyrie. Jon Snow burns on a funeral pyre at the Wall. Queen Daenaerys Stormborn travels to Asshai to reclaim her homeland and her dragons. Aegon Targaryen IV conquers the Stormlands. Begins roughly around the time aDwD ends.
1. Arya I

_**A Darkness Of Hearts**_

 _Chapter 1_

* * *

She saw a slight brunette clad in breeches and a soft black leather tunic, an arm thrown reassuringly around her shoulder. The man the arm belonged to was a good head and a half taller than the petite Lady next to him, clad in boiled leather and mail. Golden stags and silver wolves showed themselves discreetly about their persons, less so than the nobility of Westeros were wont to do. They gazed out over choppy waves and a darkening sky, seemingly unconcerned. Perhaps they were used to such winds battling against their walls.

The wind lessened and the scene before her grew darker, the shadows in her vision beginning to slide and manoeuvre into different positions. As they did a new stage set itself solely for her. This one; familiar at once to the girl who was powerless to do ought else but watch. _Winterfell_. Wasted and ruined, the ancient fortress remained a monument testifying to the strength of its people. Winterfell guarded its secrets well, kept them close to its heart. Not a soul knew for sure anymore how it was built, only who built it. It is known that where no facts can be found, rumour will abound. Legends formed themselves based on stories told about the construction of the Starks home.

The girl thought that perhaps, it was the secrets woven into Winterfell that had been its true sentry throughout the Starks' recent distress. The family torn down one by one, their home destroyed time and again. It seemed to her though, that it has been sought for refuge and protected once again by its rightful owners. They have rallied although they have been brought as low as they can be. Each has known a torture so exquisitely matched to them as individuals that it is proof enough that the god exists. He is cruel and fickle sometimes.

She considers this while studying every detail about her surroundings. Nothing is how she remembered it but she saw what could be. The current Lady of the House, by conquest as well as by blood, had made a modest start towards repopulating the household. Lady Sansa Stark is standing proudly in front of her surviving bannermen and smallfolk. Her words aren't clear, but the atmosphere suggests a child, their firstborn by the looks of it. The fact that the North is starting to rebuild within this very generation would be surprising if it weren't the North.

Shadows started to fall and she almost reached for the beautiful Lady of Winter, until remembering the pointlessness of it. She could not touch her sister no more than she could speak to her. She could only wish her a happy life, free from anything that lives outside a song. _You look so much like mother._

The darkness does not allow her to linger there. Emerging from it gives her a sense of having been here before, done this before. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light in the cave and she recognised it as Hollow Hill seconds later. Pale roots meander through the space providing makeshift benches for men with gaunt faces and despairing eyes. They had been stronger during the time she had spent with them as their hostage. They seemed to have lost something in the interim. _Mayhap someone_ … She noticed several of the men looking in the direction of a cloaked figure, supposedly listening intently. Where they had looked to the Lightening Lord with respect and determination, they regarded their new leader with something more akin to fear or disgust.

Curiosity flared and she found herself in front of the creature without having done more than thought about it. As she vaguely noted this ability she hunkered down slightly, so as to see who could command such repulsion in men who had seen the worst that war could do. The girl was not afraid of death in any form but she understood the fear that this particular face caused. This was an unnecessarily warped version of the gift, an anomaly in the flow of life taken too far. Everything in her training and indeed her being went against this. Left with no other recourse she turned away, unable to bear it anymore. Her eyes cast about and met those of a diminutive wrinkled woman who sat away from the main gathering, a wineskin seemingly always held to her mouth.

The ancient, albino dwarf was obviously aware of her presence; she stared straight into the stormy grey eyes. Up until that moment, she had been a ghost. In addition, the girls senses aside from sight had been somewhat muted. As the wineskin moved away from the shrivelled lips, a croaking voice reached her ears clearly.

"There is only one true choice. You are needed, Dark Heart."

The darkness rushed into her vision more aggressively this time, swallowing every last detail until there was nothing but a gaping emptiness. She remained enveloped in nothingness for long enough to register the utter lack of sensation, then with great force became aware of her body again. She felt her eyelids flutter and slowly the face of the Kindly Man came into focus.

"Who are you child?"

"No one" came her almost unthinking answer. The Kindly Man said nothing, brought his hand up to his forehead and slowly lowered it. As he did his bone structure rippled and his skin darkened slightly. Dark coarse hair flowed from his scalp and a smile that she had seen in another lifetime settled itself between a trimmed moustache and goatee. Syrio Forel, former First Sword of Braavos asked the question of her in a different way;

"Who do you want to be child?" The girl said nothing to her former dancing master, only watched him for a moment. She had not made this connection herself before now, but it did not surprise her, the god of many faces was a connection between everyone living in the world. Valar morghulis. After she had been silent for minutes on end, her masters smiling face became more serious.

"Valar dohaeris" he replied, as if she had spoken the words aloud. He paused and then began speaking anew.

"The god we serve, as all men must, requires more than just the gift given by his followers. When the balance between life and death becomes disturbed, it holds no benefit to Him of Many Faces."

He stopped again, his eyes searching her face for a sign of understanding. She gave him nothing, but he took some kind of assurance anyway, and spoke again, more softly this time.

"There are many ways to serve the god. His will would be best executed if you were not truly Faceless." She narrowed her eyes in response and he raised an eyebrow. _I have taken all I need from you already._

"Who are you child?" He wanted to hear the words. The storm clouds gathering behind her grey eyes cleared and cold steel lay beneath her words.

"Arya Stark, the Dark Heart of Winterfell."

"And what do you say to the God of Death?"

"Not today."

* * *

AN: This is the first chapter of the first part of a series I am working on, that will start an unspecified time after the last book. It's mostly in canon I think - but I've not read the books for ages, so you might have to allow a margin of error. It wont all be happily ever after, but the plot doesn't allow for me to kill everybody either. It's going to be from multiple characters perspectives and if the outline I have so far is anything to go by, then there will be an abundance of Arya. I am working towards a balance nonetheless you have been warned. I'm using U.K English when it comes to spelling, I'm rating it M, even though you know what you're in for when you read something based on A Song of Ice and Fire. The title is something I have doubts about but I like the "A Blank of Blank" format he uses. FInally I hope this filled the gaping hole in your heart a little while you wait for the next book. Your thoughts are always welcome. Erial K.


	2. Sansa

_AN: Explicit content._

 _Sansa_

* * *

Alayne Stone, natural born daughter of the Lord Protector of the Vale was acting Lady of the Eyrie ever since her step mothers death. As such she found herself receiving petitions, settling small disputes within the castles household, entertaining Ladies of note and having the luxury of being the first person that the merchants arriving in Gulltown offered their wares to. _The select few that Petyr hadn't already bought anyway._

A messenger from one of these rare galleys had arrived in the Eyrie and requested a meeting with the Lady Arryn. Having been informed of her untimely demise at the hands of the vile singer Marillion, the boy quickly requested to speak with the new Lady of the House.

Alayne accepted the meeting, hoping the galley had come from somewhere that had an abundance of lemons. Winter did not allow much of chance for lemon cakes but she hoped nonetheless. It had been an age since she had eaten the delicious treat and Sweetrobin liked them too, probably because of Alaynes expressed preference. Perhaps it would keep him calm, delay the inevitable administering of sweetsleep. The plan would continue regardless but Alayne insisted on doing what little she could for the boy, despite her distaste for her step-brother.

For the first time in a long time, Alaynes farfetched wishes bore fruit, lemons in fact. The merchant's envoy, an adolescent with the looks of an Essosi, offered her crates of them. He told her that they were shipped from Volantis, which had not suffered the brunt of winter yet.

While the envoy spoke in a low respectful tone, he did not lower his gaze as was usual for those of low birth when speaking to nobles. It seemed as though the boy took in every detail of her face, her clothes, their surroundings, his eyes lingered on every point of access to the large chamber.

The Lord Protector entered unannounced, greeted his daughter rather too warmly, his hands roaming along her form. When he turned his attention to the guest standing in front of Alayne his eyes turned decidedly colder, though it was not overt.

"Who is this handsome youth, sweetling? Is there anything you require my assistance with?" he asked in a soft voice that filled her with an unaccountable sense of danger. Alayne made sure that her face reflected the appropriate amount of excitement before answering her father.

"He is a messenger from a Braavosi merchant galley newly arrived in Gulltown. They bring lemons from Volantis, Father. May I have your permission to purchase their cargo?" The messenger looked on impassively.

"Of course, you have my permission. The entire Vale knows of your and Lord Robins love of lemon cakes. How could I refuse such a request?" he replied teasingly. The Lord Protector however was not done. "Indulge my curiosity though, fine sailor, how is it that such a cargo escaped my knowledge?" His smile was genial and almost invited confidence, but it did not reach the short man's eyes. He continued; "I made it known that I would pay more than any other with regard to lemons, for my sweet Alayne."

The messenger replied with a heavy accent, saying that this was indeed why the captain had insisted on travelling to the Vale, even though a decent price would have been found elsewhere along the coast.

"Rest assured my lord, your fine reputation as a valuable customer is well known across the Narrow Sea." The envoy finished his explanation, with careful flattery and slight bow of his head.

Alayne admired the courtly words, wondering how such a simple sailor had known the right words to say. _Good choice of envoy on the captain's part._ Her Father was about to leave to return to his duties, though it was more likely it was to send out his own envoys to gather information on this Braavosi merchant, whose messenger had turned up out of nowhere. Before he did, he told Alayne to find suitable accommodations for the boy.

Alayne acquiesced gracefully and indicated he was to accompany her out of the chamber. As they walked she asked if her new acquaintance had ever been to the Vale before.

"No my Lady, it is my first time here. I have heard of its many wonders though, and pray pardon my bluntness, but would you perchance guide me to the godswood before showing me my chamber? The light is fading and I will most likely have to leave at first light tomorrow, I may not have this chance again."

Alayne looked at him, wondering if this was a ruse. The godswood was an isolated place. If he made any attempt to impugn her honour, none would be close enough to help her. As though having read her thoughts, the handsome youth - with grey eyes she now noticed - spoke again.

"You have my word my lady I wish only to pay homage to the gods. I assume you have an escort, shall we call for him? Perhaps I should make my request of someone else, if it would please you."

His fine words swayed her, though she knew it was not what Petyr would have allowed. She changed her path to one leading to the godswood, with a few softly spoken words of repaying him for the lemons. As the arrived in front of the Heart Tree, he turned to her and took both of her hands. His grip tightened, he whispered urgently but not threateningly,

"Don't make a sound, Sansa."

Alayne gasped at the name, and watched frozen in horror, as the young man's free hand traversed his face, the flesh beneath rippling, skin tone lightening and the bone structure settling into smoother softer lines. Sansa obeyed until the hand released her wrists, the digits no longer dwarfing her slender wrists.

"…Arya?" The whisper was barely audible as though she was afraid the girl before her would dissolve into the air. The only part that remained unchanged in the adolescent was her eyes. Clear winter skies resided in those eyes, grey as the stones of their childhood home. Thick brown hair tumbled down her back, not as straight as Sansas own. Although she was garbed still in her sailor's tunic and breeches, there was poise in her posture that had not been there as a child. She nodded her head, affirmation of Sansas question.

Arya took her hands again this time to comfort instead of restrain. She tugged Sansa to sit down on the thick white root she was using as a bench. Sansa brushed off the dirt and debris coating the wood and settled herself next to her sister. Arya rolled her eyes when she saw the ladylike display. Sansa glared at her and told her in a vicious whisper that Petyr would be suspicious of a dirty dress.

"It looked to me that he had no problem dirtying your dresses." Arya shot back in a low tone, disgust clear in her tone and eyes.

"He has done nothing." Sansa stated, "Yet. He must wait for my marriage to Harrold Hardyng in order for his plan to work." Arya mulled this over. Both of them knew of his suspicions towards the merchant's messenger. They knew they did not have much time to act. Sansa wondered what Arya planned to do, for her sister was surely not here just for a casual visit between siblings.

"He could be convinced to take your maidenhood. He desires it above all else, the man hides his intentions well, but that much is clear to me." Arya told her what she already knew. Sansas mind raced wondering how her sister could pick up on so much that not one other had commented upon. Arya continued. "If he was alone with you in your chambers, he would be vulnerable." She explained further. "I have been here more than a week and have been unable to get to the man without arousing suspicion. I have learnt much in our time apart, sister mine. Together, we could have vengeance on the man responsible for this war."

Sansa considered the possibilities. She had been waiting for such a chance to present itself and she too had learnt much in the recent years. There was no reason to let Petyr live, and the plan was without flaw.

The light had all but gone from the godswood. She housed Arya, disguise in place, in rooms far below the Lord Protectors and Alaynes. The less suspicion surrounding her the better. Prior to the evening meal, she had gone to her own rooms and stared critically in the glass. Her hair needed to be painted again, the dark brown allowing hints of auburn through. _It won't matter after tonight_.She changed into a more fitted gown, in the Tully colours. She made her way to her father's chambers for the evening meal and noticed how his eyes lit up at the sight of her. Afterwards, Alayne went to sit with her father in his solar as was usual for the pair.

She settled herself in his lap upon his request. Her experience in seducing men was not broad, though Randa had told her stories. Arya, gods only knew how, also had some tricks. Littlefinger, on the other hand owned several brothels, therefore could tell the false from the true when it came to a woman's affections. He thought her innocent in such matters however so he would not expect her to employ these methods. After all, up till now she had never done more than allow kisses.

She quashed the revulsion coiling in her stomach and gazed adoringly into his eyes, placing her arm around his shoulders.

"Father" she began haltingly, "Truly you know not, how grateful I am to you. You would do anything for my pleasure. I only wish I could do the same for you, my lord." From under her lashes she looked to his lips and licked her own, seemingly unaware of it. She was rewarded with a lecherous smile as he trailed his hand down the side of her face, along her jawline.

"Sweetling, there are many ways you could show you gratitude and ensure my pleasure. I fear though you will have to wait until you are married, as you well know." He tilted his head and brought her lips to his chastely. She responded softly then broke the kiss and pulled away slightly. She cast her eyes downwards and spoke again;

"Randa has told me of ways that I might entice Harry without the loss of my maidenhood. When there are no others around, I have seen you look at me in the same way other men do, my lord." Sansa prayed to all the gods that Baelish would be too blinded to see the last few minutes as what they truly were, his very own tricks perfectly executed to the best of his pupils ability. She looked up again, her eyes wide with hope and just the right amount of fear. Littlefinger was almost undone; she could feel it, sitting in his lap as she was, an increase of pressure into her thigh as soon as she looked into his eyes. His smile had become a smirk, hand trailing slowly down her neck to rest in the curve of fabric covering her chest.

Without warning Petyr ripped through lace and satin, and Sansa gasped, mortified and reminded of Joffreys court. Littlefinger wasted no time on her modesty as he roughly pulled his breeches down then stood her up and hiked up her skirts, tearing her stockings and smallclothes in the process. He didn't remove anything merely set her back astride him. Now that he had gotten this far, he slowed down a bit. He looked at her in an enquiring manner. That repulsive smile returned.

"Which one of these enticing acts of gratitude had you in mind for me, sweetling?" he all but purred. From her position, she wasn't entirely sure that he did not in fact intend to claim her virtue. _Where in the seven hells are you, Arya formerly Underfoot?_

"Do you not wish to choose, my lord?" she replied coquettishly, hoping to keep him at this leisurely pace. He pulled her breasts free from the ruin of her gown and began to suckle. He paused in his attentions long enough to answer.

"If my lady should be so kind, I think I would like more than one." _You fool_ "For now, I want you right here. Do you like the sound of that, sweet girl?" With that he grasped her buttocks, pushed and pulled her against him burying his face in between her breasts, grunting.

Soon enough he pushed her off him and told her to get on her knees in front of him. He shifted himself forwards in his seat, one hand reaching for her hair. Her lips were swollen and she instinctively moved forwards as he did. She watched as he took himself in hand, squirming with something that was not quite revulsion any more.

"Oh sweet girl you look just right like this…Show me your tongue…"She obliged feeling as though a joke was being played on her. He placed himself just at the tip and of its own accord her tongue slipped forwards, twirling around him. She leaned forwards and he entered her mouth. She slid her soft plump lips as far along his shaft as she could and withdrew just as slowly. Looking up into his face she noticed his head dropped back leaving his neck exposed as she moved. Looking up again she saw a shadow slide into place behind Petyrs chair.

Just as he cried out, a thin glint of steel passed over his throat and blood flowed down as his ecstatic moans turned to a frenzied gurgling. Arya looked straight at Sansa with the Stranger at her shoulder saying,

"All men must die."

* * *

 _AN: Thank you for your encouragement. Any thoughts?_


	3. Stoneheart

_Stoneheart_

The fire had burnt low and the men were asleep apart from those on watch. She never slept anymore only waited. The witch that had taken to following them since the cold winds had risen was seated nearby the fire. Several trusted members of the brotherhood had told her she was worth her keep due to the fact that she was renowned for having the gift of prophesy. Stoneheart could not very well express a belief in the supernatural so she listened to what the gnarled dwarf had to say. What she said could have easily been the result of her penchant for red wine, as far as it made any sense but she listened nonetheless.

"Warriors lead by death shall find nothing but death awaits them. Not glory, not riches and certainly not honour." The dwarf directed this statement at her all the while staring into the dying flames of the fire. She took a sip and brought her gaze to meet Stoneheart's own. Stoneheart nodded, acknowledging her soldiers probable demise. It was the only way.

"It is not the only way." The witch spoke as having known her exact pattern of thoughts. Her thoughts were always one and the same though; vengeance. It couldn't have been a challenge for one so old to know how the mind operated. She continued,

"It is the wrong way. There will be another, the one with the Dark Heart. She will lead them and your miserable existence will be returned to the abyss from whence you came."

"Never." She croaked "I am not done."

"Your quest has no end, you will never be done. An eye for an eye leaves the entire realm blind. The only one who can end this is one of your own and she will be your own end." With this the dwarf hobbled off to curl up in one of the numerous alcoves created by the old roots winding through the cave. _Never._

Moons had turned since that exchange between the two and the witch had left her to lead unencumbered since then. Some of the original members had become visibly uncomfortable with the methods she was using to get information on the weaknesses of the Twins. She wasn't enjoying torturing these weasel- faced sons of the Late Lord Frey. She felt nothing while strapping live panicked rats in buckets to their chests. Fingers and toes were taken off without regret. She merely required their deaths and their intimate knowledge of lesser used entry ways to the towers of the Crossing. It was entirely up to them how much they suffered for it. The loathsome Lord of the Crossing was sending out the dregs to be slaughtered it was clear, for their last few hostages had no information of value and were hanged, left with their entrails spilling forth as a feast for the local wildlife. Let it not be said that the Brotherhood did not take care of the lands it occupied.

The men and Stoneheart herself had just returned from an outing of this nature. The sight that greeted her eyes was one she had wished fervently to see, in a time long passed. She stopped still, observing her daughter sitting by the fire, her awareness of her surroundings obvious in her posture. Upon their arrival, Arya stood tall and looked into the eyes of the creature that had been her mother. What she felt was not visible on her visage. There was a stillness that Catelyn had never seen in her child before but suchthings held no interest for Lady Stoneheart.

"Why are you here?" she croaked, her conversation with the witch ringing through her mind. No reply came forth and she forced out more words, hissing through her torn apart vocal chords;

"Why have you come?" Stoneheart took a step towards the Stark girl as she spoke. Still no emotion graced her face, not the revulsion that was common to the others who had known her before her death. She could still remember Brienne's palpable horror when she realised who was to hang her for her crimes. No, this was not right. Arya still gave her no answer merely observed her progress towards her, waiting. She directed her attention towards the witch, who was still occupying a spot by the fire.

"What have you told her?" She hissed.

At this, Arya apparently decided the time for her to speak was upon them. Softly, speaking only to her as she said,

"Nothing I was not already aware of, mother." The last word left her mouth with a twist of disgust. She did not wait for Stoneheart to speak, continuing,

"I have come to take the men I need to destroy those who caused the downfall of my family." Arya was no longer speaking to only her, but to the assembled members of the Brotherhood, who had been paying keen attention to the scene before them.

"For too long you have been scraping away at the armour of our enemies, searching for a chink that will allow your esteemed leader to have her final vengeance. For years now, you have done her bidding and yet the Freys still hold the Crossing, the Bastard of Bolton resides in Winterfell and the godsdamned Lannisters are still the wealthiest family in Westeros, their incestuous seed remains on the Iron Throne."

She paused, seemingly checking if they were still listening. The men gathered had stood up straighter since she began speaking, some of them looking more like the men they had been before the war.

"Some of you knew me as a girl. In the years that have gone by I have been waiting for the chance to strike back at these families who have wrongly taken power. I have been training and planning. You used to fight for the smallfolk, the children, those ravaged by war that could not take up arms against knights and protect themselves and their own. Now you fight for vengeance. You take an eye from those who took one from you, and should you continue, the entire realm will be left blinded."

At this point Stoneheart would hear no more, no matter it was her own daughter, no matter that what she spoke was the truth. The realm was already destroyed. Vengeance was all that was left to them. She launched herself at her former daughter, spitting words of betrayal at her. Stoneheart clamped onto the girls throat, calling her an imposter, that she was no true Stark.

Arya did not fight back as the creature used all of its strength trying to crush her slender neck. The girl looked straight into her yellowing, bloodshot eyes and whispered,

"There is only one true path, mother. It will end with revenge for our family, but you will not be the one to walk it." With these words, she grasped the hilt of her tiny water-dancer's blade. Stoneheart realised a second too late that Arya was not restrained at all by her hold on her throat. The blade rose up and met the gaping wound in her throat, slicing easily through the bandages binding it closed. The sword continued its journey, cutting through rotten sinew and cartilage, severing the connection between her mutiliated head and ravaged body. As soon as whatever force preserving the abhorrent creature was removed, flesh and hair disintegrated, leaving a puddle of foul smelling gore covered bones at her feet.


	4. Gendry

_Gendry_

The Brotherhood had looked on in silence as their leader was given back to the Stranger. When her hands had gone around Aryas throat, he had tried to intervene, one of his brothers pulling him back. He has seen her lips moving, but didn't hear the words that were spoken. Quicker than he could breathe, a sliver of steel had passed across Stonehearts wound. His strength returned when he saw Arya drop to her knees splattering herself in more viscera as she did so. Breaking from the man's hold, he moved forward and placed his hands under her arms. He lifted her tiny form up into a standing position. With great care, he walked her to a slight increase in the uneven floor of the cave. In doing so he allowed her to see more of the Brotherhood and also got her away from the mess that had once been her mother.

Once he was sure she could stand alone, he released her shoulders and unhooked his hammer from his belt. She watched standing completely still, the difference in the ground that they stood on bringing them almost eye to eye. He took a step back and brought himself onto one knee in front of her. A deep rumbling voice emanated from him, words sounding sincere even to the most stubborn cynic.

"I, Ser Gendry of the Hollow Hill, swear myself and my weapon to you, in the name of House Stark of Winterfell." The others had already started to fall into a line behind him once he had knelt. He stood and she nodded; her face once more an indistinguishable mask. He then took a stance behind her on her right, the position of a guard. He thought he heard a light scoff come from her mouth, which he figured was reasonable given what had seen her do to her own mother. Questions rolled around in the back of his mind, where had she been, what had she done? How in the name of all the gods had she survived on her own as a young girl in a war torn realm? _If anybody could, it was that little hellion. She's not so little anymore…_

The entire force of the Brotherhood without Banners swore allegiance to her, the guards outside being informed of what had happened and temporarily relieved of their duty. The men felt a celebration was in order, whereupon wine flowed, barrels of ale tapped and a doe roasted on the fire. Gendry ate and drank his fill with the rest of them, Arya a little ways off from them in deep conversation with the ghost of High Heart. The revelry endured until she stood; she was immediately granted silence to speak. She said not much;

"Eat and drink as though it was your last night in this world. Tomorrow we march for the Twins."

She smiled then and it was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Sheer glee at the thought of the destruction she would wreak upon those who had killed her brother, allowing the usurpation of the North.

Most of the men had been subdues by her statement, a small amount though continued their festivities with a renewed vigour. He joined neither group, simply went to find himself a corner to rest in.

Arya came to him at first light. She was still garbed in a tunic and breeches, though these were not ruined by her mothers' rotten blood. Along with Lem, Tom, Harwin, Anguy and the witch, she brought them in on her plan to take the Twins. She would gain entry to the Twins under cover of darkness. A small force of the Brotherhoods more stealthy warriors would be allowed in by her. They would proceed to get rid of the guards and sentries that could alert the other tower. When this was completed they would bring in the rest of the Brotherhood, while Arya along with a few others would silently assassinate the male heirs of the Frey line along. The children were to be spared along with any woman who did not pose a threat to the plan or their lives. Any women that fought back were to be killed along with their menfolk. Lem spoke up,

"How exactly do you, little lady, plan on actually getting into the fucking castle might I ask?"

"Aye," a grinning Tom agreed.

"This whole scenario depends on you, my dear. You can understand that we would need assurances of your capability for the task…my lady."

At the mention of her being a Lady, she cocked an eyebrow, appraising them for a moment. Curses soon left their mouths in abundance, when she brought her hand down across her face and it was completely changed. Her jawline narrowed and its definition, her hair dulled to a mousy brown and in place of clear grey eyes; watery brown reflected the firelight. She looked for all intents and purposes, exactly like a Frey bitch. Having assuaged their doubts, she shook her head and repeated the motion, countenance reverting to her own. All uncertainty forgotten, the group stood up and went their separate ways to begin the preparation for their assault.

They had camped a short distance from the Twins, behind the treeline, using forest to cover themselves. Fires were not lit and the camp had been constructed with the minimum of fuss or noise. In short their presence was unknown to the guards walking the walls of the crossing. Darkness was soon to fall and the commanders entrusted with knowledge of the battle plan were organising the men which had been organised into companies on the march. Gendry himself was in charge of the men who were to launch the sneak attack on the guards, while Arya and her stealth force began the massacre of unconscious Frey in their beds. Gendry felt vague discomfort at the thought of murdering men while they slept and he was sure that Arya had noted this, most likely his task was to slaughter the guards awake and on duty, because of her belief that he would not be able to perform her task. He was not the boy she had known anymore but she was nonetheless probably in the right. It had seemed like she could see a man's intentions before they saw it themselves.

They began their attack only when darkness made the open plain in front of the Twins traversable. Arya signaled the gate they were to enter by. She went on to approach anther gate this one clearly lit with a guard on duty. The men stayed back far enough that the guard wouldn't notice anything amiss as he let in a servant who had sneaked out after hours to see her lover who was at an outpost further down the river. Minutes ticked by as Gendry held his breath. He had seen what she could do but this was a very defensible castle, her training might not be extensive as she made it out to be. His worries proved unfounded as he saw the postern gate swung inwards. He and the combined force of he and Aryas companies moved towards the gate, quickly and quietly. No shout or alarm rang out from the nearby watch-posts and the entered the castle with as little resistance as she had said they would.

Arya waited down the corridor and as soon as she saw Gendry pass over the threshold, she signaled him to go through a side door. He passed this order along through his men and gestured to those left that they should follow Arya, who was now moving lightly further down the corridor, towards the heart of the castle. They quickly followed suit and as silently as they could in light armour, made their way after her.

Gendry inhaled deeply and standing to the side of the doorway, indicated with a nod to one of his men to turn the handle. When the door swung inwards he passed through, dagger at the ready in front, other hand poised to rip his hammer from his belt as soon as he had room to manoeuvre. He found a number of Frey guardsmen dicing and drinking in a room lit with few candles. He silenced the nearest of them with his dagger, his soldiers behaving similarly towards the few others in the room. Built into the walls at various heights were bunks for the off duty guards, some of them occupied. The men who were beginning to rouse at the sounds of attack, were sluggish and not in a fit state to fight, so most of them ended up slaughtered in their beds. _So much for my honour._ The thought crossed his mind as he struck a half-awake man across the face with his hammer. The blow landed with such force that it splintered the wooden bunk sending both body and bed crashing down into the already dead soldier below. Gendry didn't see this as he had already moved on to the next soldier.

Battle fever kept him stabbing, slashing and crushing until there was no one left alive except for him and most of his men. One of his own had fallen and was being dragged back out the route they had cleared into the castle. They would not leave him to rot with this scum, but they had no time to mourn yet. Gendry repeated the strategy on the next door, finding a stone antechamber with a stairway leading up and a single other door leading to the main courtyard he supposed. Taking the courtyard before the walls would end in him and his men getting more feathers than a raven should the archers spot them, which they inevitably would. Not to mention the alarm being raised as soon as this happened. Left with only one option he started up the stairs, motioning for them to follow two by two after him.

He reached the top and signalled to halt. He stood behind the door listening for the sound of armoured steps. While that meant there was no close to that door, it also meant the nearest soldiers were likely at their posts, well within reach of the alarm bell. Again there was only one option so Gendry slowly opened the door, waiting for the hinge to creak or a shout to ring out in the silence of the night. The gods were on his side when neither sound reached his ears he motioned for the others to split up and proceed in single file in opposite directions. They crept along in the shadows against the wall towards the nearest watch points. _Thank the gods that all Freys are lazy, arrogant shits._ The men were seated near a fire, obscuring their vision of anything outside the glow of the flames. Furthermore, their weapons were not at their sides but left against the far wall. All five had their throats slit by daggers, before they even saw the intruders.

Their luck held; but not for long enough though as alarm bells rang out from the other side of the tower.

"Shit! Move to the gate, now!" The bull's orders were followed even as he was still shouting, hammer twirling in his hand, turning to gaze at the sight of the armoured men running straight at them.

"Keep going on the wall, kill anything you see and for fucks sake OPEN THOSE GATES." With this he grabbed an oil barrel and rolled it at the Frey soldiers coming. Picking up a torch, he eyed the distance between him and the barrel, then the soldiers. It would be a close thing, when it came to it. The barrel was starting to leak so he started moving backwards, tossing the torch in an arc. The flame caught the end of the trail of oil. It chased the now slowing barrel towards the still oncoming soldiers. _Are they stupid as well as arrogant and lazy?_ The barrel exploded, sending a currently sprinting Gendry sprawled on his face his, his head ringing from the impact on the hard stone walkway. He turned to lie on his side, groaning. He could go no further than that. Arya's task came to his mind; he hoped there had been enough time to make any real battle impossible. He giggled, his mind a little addled from the blow. The signal for the brute force of their assault was agreed to be a torched waved in a specific pattern. Surely blowing up a relatively small group of Freys soldiers with an oil barrel had shown that the 'stealth' part of the attack was over. The giggling stopped thankfully and everything went black.


	5. Arya II

_Arya_

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Arya had a moment to breathe now. Ever since she had slit the throat of Petyr Baelish she hadn't stopped, every step had been calculated and perfectly executed, not even a breath off book, until Gendry had improvised out of necessity. Staring out at the rushing waters of the river, she took stock of the last few weeks. _Was it really less than a moon since I left the Eyrie?_ Everything was moving fast because nothing was going amiss, that much she assured herself of.

Sansa had played her part with Littlefinger a bit too well. It had been what came after that Arya had been truly apprehensive about; how the Lords of the Vale might take their named Protectors unexpected demise. She needn't have troubled herself. Sansa had apparently charmed enough of the numerous Lords of Vale so much that they readily accepted her words about the events in question; especially they who had been outspoken in the past against their Lady's husband. The sisters had agreed on how to proceed in the godswood. Arya was to kill the guard in the hallway, silencing any witness who could offer up the wrong tale when asked. Sansa shrieked and the unsuspecting guard had come running. Arya slammed the door behind him and stabbed him in the neck.

Arya had roughed herself up and slapped Sansa in the face with Petyr's unresponsive arm, leaving a conclusive red handprint on her cheek. Sansa had promptly and quite convincingly, Arya thought, burst into tears and wails of humiliation and pain. The guards on patrol responding to her sounds of distress found Arya covering her sister in a sheet from the bed, Petyr dead in his chair with his cock hanging out. Arya had threatened the guards in a childish voice, presenting them with a face that was vulnerable and desperate. Sansa had shushed her comfortingly, and asked that the guards fetch any and all Lords of the Vale who happened to be in the Eyrie at the time.

Sansa in her tattered gown, faced marked with a handprint still, had stoically explained to the assembly who she truly was, how she - based on dubious information - smuggled her only living sibling into the Vale from Essos without Littlefingers permission. She told them tearfully that when he found out, he ordered the guard to restrain her sister; he had then attacked her and forced her to do vile things while her sister looked on. She claimed Arya had escaped the guards hold and stabbed him in the neck, then killed Baelish using the water-dancers training she had gotten hiding in Braavos, disguised as a boy. _The best lie has some truth in it._

The Lords had taken one look at Arya; still covered in Littlefingers blood, and accepted this. After a few days of negotiations, they agreed to provide an honour guard and a representative of the Vale to go along with her sister to swear the allegiance of the North and the Vale to the dragons that had conquered the Stormlands. She was due to arrive there soon, if there hadn't been any trouble of the road. If the Vale had any honour left after her father's friend had died.

Arya herself would be making a move in that direction, when Gendry was well enough to travel. She hadn't told him why she was so keen to have him with her. She knew that he would likely refuse to have anything to do with the name of a man who was so devoid of honour. _Stupid bull has no idea._ He deserved the chance to make the Baratheon name a great one again. So she would petition on his behalf for legitimization, given the lack of a trueborn male heir of the Baratheon line.

She therefore had to remain at the Bridge of the Brotherhood as it had been dubbed by some imaginative soul. _I hate it here, even when it is conquered and burned._ The taking of the castle had gone smoothly at first. Following the blast, chaos had reigned. Arya had finished off the remaining Freys with little difficulty, even after they were awake. The rest of the Brotherhood had gotten rid of the weakened household guard with few fatalities on their side. She had evacuated the tower that housed the Great Hall and the private living quarters of most of the family. After scavenging any supplies they could use, it was razed to the ground. The corpses were burned along with the building, except their own few dead men.

Many of the men were injured however. Most of these injuries would cause minimal discomfort now, should any of these men survive for ten years however, the lasting damage would be immensely difficult to deal with. She ordered the women who had survived the sack of the castle, as well as the Brotherhood themselves to heal them as best they could, supplementing their knowledge with some of her own vast amount of information. The Waif had taught her remedies and antidotes alongside her education in poisons.

These warriors were her men till the end of their lives; her family was responsible for their wellbeing. Not implementing the knowledge she had acquired in the House of the Black and White for the betterment of their existence was not an option, so that is what she did. She ordered the Brotherhood to move the main body of their headquarters to the Bridge, including the children of the Inn. Hollow Hill and the Crossroads Inn were to remain as outposts, members of the Brotherhood to remain there, scouting for any smallfolk in need of refuge and to send them here with an escort every fortnight.

She sent other men out east to the Quiet Isle. They would bring back any men or women who did not wish to swear themselves to the Faith, particularly those who worked in the art of healing. In exchange for food, shelter and protection, they would put any skills they had to use, helping the wounded, the rearing of the orphans, as well as keeping the establishment running, the cleaning and cooking and so forth. More riders were sent into the Neck, though no one wanted this job. In the end Anguy was assigned the duty of finding crannogmen who were willing to come, and teach those who wished to learn of herblore and healing.

By the time her outriders returned, the Bridge of the Brotherhood had already made its name with the smallfolk of the region, as well as travelling septons. It was already necessary to allow priority to the children and the wounded or ill. They were happy to be of use in exchange for a couple of warm meals and sharp swords pointed outwards. Any who had knowledge of stitching, herblore, medicinal properties of the plants of the Riverlands, cooking or hunting were asked to show at least one other person what they knew. The children learnt to stitch and the basics of tending to a fever. One of the septons had a dog that delighted the younger children and seeing how kind the man was Arya asked him to stay for some time, and in conjunction with a few others take care of the children's education. He agreed graciously,

"This is a noble and selfless accomplishment my child," he had said to her when she first spoke to him of her intentions for the castle. She had looked him straight in the eye when she a queried,

"Noble, perhaps...but selfless?" She had looked back at the bustle in the courtyard again,

"I gain the most satisfaction knowing that Walder Frey would be turning in his grave, had I allowed him one, with the knowledge that his land and legacy was all lost to a bunch of orphans and invalids." There was a short pause, before she added, "It is what is expected of nobility to make sure they are safe. They are my people, my families' responsibility."

Gendry had been awake for longer and longer each day. Arya was somewhat impatient to be gone but had to wait until she was sure he would not fall from his horse. She needed to be in the Stormlands before the dragon boy decided to take off for Kings Landing, To have any hope for Gendrys legitimization, he would have to be there himself, standing tall with his hammer at his belt, heritage obvious to any who cared to look. _My father cared to look and died for it._

While she waited, she attempted to make herself useful. She spent time with the different people who were beginning to make their home in the castle and the slowly growing camp surrounding it. Meetings between herself and the commanders of the Brotherhood happened regularly, patrols and sentries scheduled and sent out, defenses strengthened. She asked to speak with the various men and women who had come to them citing knowledge of healing, who had started to attend to the ill and wounded with small groups observing. These groups also were given lessons by Arya herself on potions and draughts for disinfection, causing sleep and numbness among other things. Painful amputations and other drastic wounds would be treated with more than boiling wine and white hot steel.

She spoke with the former tradesmen and farmers that had been called to arms by some bannerman or other and had ended up with nothing. The ones who were still able to practice their trade were asked to resume it as far as circumstances allowed. The children were her favourite people to spend time with; they were the only ones who would be able to put the war behind them. They were still careful, but where they had been wary of strangers, now they were curious. At the inn, they had wielded crossbows and daggers, now they pretended to be famous knights and Kings, fighting with make believe swords. While she watched, Arya struggled with an onslaught of buried grief. It surged up from the pit of her stomach, as a boy proclaimed himself the Young Wolf.

She made her way over to the group of heroes, asking them playfully if they wanted to learn some sword-fighting with her. A clamour of approval rang out at this so she began teaching them the basics of the Braavosi style. She found their armament, namely sticks and small branches, to be suitable for her task. After that she instructed them after the morning meal each day while Gendry recovered slowly from the blast which had left him bruised and battered.

She insisted that the Brotherhood run drills every day and train any of the new arrivals who wanted to learn the art of war. Those with talent would be knighted should they wish it once they were deemed to have completed their training. Arya's impatience to leave was curbed slightly by the many interactions with the new residents of the castle, acting as a liaison between various groups. Realising that this was not a permanent solution, she asked one or two people from the Brotherhood, the new recruits, the numerous tradesmen, the Faith, the healers, the kitchen staff and those who took care of the children to take over the management of each area of expertise. These people formed a council to make sure the castle kept running.

They had kept the previous owners' ravens but no one knew much about how to take care of them. She did her best from what she remembered of Maester Luwin's ravens but honestly they were unpleasant birds despite their intelligence and she was unsurprised that no one wanted the job. Someone had to do it though.

The Bridge of the Brotherhood was damn close to autonomous by the time Arya and Gendry were ready to depart. News of the community had spread like wildfire, and with the mass of people, very few were unskilled mouths to feed. The people were glad of a safe place to mourn their lost, glad they could get on with the things that life had prepared them for before the nobles had disrupted everything by playing their power games all across the realm. They brought their knowledge with them and it just kept growing. She was satisfied that nothing more could be done by her, if it didn't work the people who resided there would find a better way.

She said her farewells and made sure the Brotherhood would send regular updates to the Eyrie as well as Sansa in Storms End to let her know of Arya's impending arrival. Gendry along with other knights of Hollow Hill rode on horseback with her away from the lone tower standing on the far shore of the river. She headed south east through the forests of the Riverlands towards the Stormlands, her sister and a lost remnant of the Targaryen dynasty.

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 _AN: Thanks for the follows/favs/reviews :)_


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